


Who All This Is For

by ohelrond



Category: Black Sails
Genre: M/M, Main timeline AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-02-27 23:20:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13258728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohelrond/pseuds/ohelrond
Summary: Thomas Hamilton returns to Captain Flint five years prior to the beginning of the Black Sails tale.Right now this is an angsty one-shot but I'm considering making this a longer project.





	1. Chapter 1

The sea was still bright blue although the storm clouds gathered on the horizon. Two great prizes in two months for the  _Walrus_ was good even by Flint’s standards but Gates worried. Monsoon season was about to start, marking the start of the summer trade in Europe and the end of the high season in the Bahamas. The crew needed the prizes, but God alone knew if half of the men would ration the small fortunes well enough to last them until the new riches that the calmer waters of winter would bring them. 

He strode through town, a small gaggle of men following him with caps in hand and he grabbed Billy by the scruff of the neck to pull him into the tavern. “Time for business, my lad. Get the books for recruitment. Let’s sort the salt from the grit out of these sorry bastards.” 

Looking at the men who had followed him, he grunted and pulled up a chair and began the long process of accepting new men for the crew. During the stormier months, many of the existing crew would not be willing to voyage the dangerous seas for less fruitful prizes, so it was not unheard of for Gates to assemble a temporary group of men to make up the shortfall. Usually they were less skilled, weaker, the rejects of major crews, but they did for a few months. It wasn’t ideal, but the men of the Walrus were lazy when they could afford to be. 

An hour in, and Gates pushed the book away from him and took off his spectacles to rub his eyes. “They’re all shit, aren’t they?”

“Not all of them,” Billy answered him, some optimism in his youthful face. Gates’ lip twitched as he suppressed a smile. “You thought I was shit when I first joined, didn’t you?”

“I still do,” Hal replied, but quickly gave him a smile when Billy’s own faltered. “I’m only messing around. Never thought you were shit. You were good from the start. Not like this bunch of sods. Oh good, another one.”

Hal gave Billy a pointed look as a tall man approached. His face was weathered and tanned and he was strapping, but Hal didn’t like the look of him. There was something about the way he walked, the way he fixed him with a solid stare. Bloody hell, he looked like he thought the world belonged to him. Hal Gates did not need men with egos this season; he needed men who wouldn’t bite back. “I’m afraid I’m not looking for more men at the moment,” he told him, not bothering to stand up, although Billy did. There was not much difference between their heights, but Billy was still a young lad with growing to do. This man looked well into middle age. 

“I’m sorry?” the man asked, looking surprised. 

“You’re here for the recruitment to the  _Walrus_ , are you not?” 

The man took a moment, blinking, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “No, I’m not. I’m looking for an audience with Captain Flint of the  _Walrus_.”

Hal took in the sight of him. His clothes were dirty and his face in need of a good wash, and he would have looked like a ruffian if it weren’t for the leather-bound book under his arm and bag slung over his shoulders. It looked stuffed with papers. Hal narrowed his eyes. 

“What do you want with Captain Flint?” 

“I have come from Lord Peter Ashe on the king’s business. Might I see him?”

He stood now and lifted his chin. “What’s your name?”

The man swallowed and he looked to the floor. “Thomas Hamilton.”

“What the fuck did you just say?” 

Billy shot Gates a look who’s face had turned dark, his fists balled. 

“My name is T-”

“Get him the fuck out of here, Billy.”

The young lad’s eyes widened. “Mister Gates?” 

“GET HIM OUT OF HERE!”

“No, please-!” the man shouted, panicked as Billy grabbed him and tried to drag him out. He was strong and pulled free, shouting, begging, calling out. “Please, just a few moments with Flint, please! I must speak with him, please-!” 

Billy managed to wrap one thick arm around his neck and he choked, spluttering, as Hal Gates strode over to him and hit him across his face. “Who the fuck are you really?” he hissed. “And what do you want with my captain?” 

Billy loosened his grip enough for him to speak. Around them, the other patrons, drunk and sober, watched them, muttering at the calamity. 

“I’m- Thomas-! Hamilton!” the man gasped, and Hal hit him again. Not hard enough to harm him, just enough to hurt.

“Try again. How do you know that name?” 

The man’s cheek was red and a thin trickle of blood leaked from one nostril, but he looked up at Gates with defiance. “I have traveled land and sea and fought kings and pirates and monsters to be here today. You can’t stop me.”

Billy tightened his grip on the man and suddenly the man launched out his leg, kicking Gates in the stomach with so much force that it winded him. 

No one talked back to Gates in Nassau, much less struck him. Gates had the loyalty of nearly every man on the island, and the men would not tolerate behaviour against him. The kick to the gut was a spark. 

All hell broke loose. Suddenly two dozen men were on their feet, pistols pulled out, knives unsheathed and the air was filled with yells and shouts and bangs and stomps and the men closed in on the stranger. Thomas could not hear himself think, let alone anything else. 

A man from the  _Ranger_  reached the stranger first and had him clasped by the shoulder, a knife ready to be sunk into his stomach when suddenly a blasting shot cut through the air. The startled crowd turned in awe and quiet to see the source.

“What the  _fuck_  is going on in my tavern?”

Eleanor stood in the doorway of her office, shotgun in hand, young face ablaze with rage. A figure shadowed her but lingered back when she stormed through the crowd to the stranger. Hal had his breath back, and he faced Guthrie. 

“This man comes here and makes wild claims and demands to see Flint. I think he has ideas to kill the captain.”

“Do you?”

Thomas clenched his jaw and looked down at the girl who almost shook with rage at the news. He could not deny it. He was there to kill Flint. A suicide mission to avenge the deaths of James and Miranda, to finally end it all. He almost cowered under her gaze. He nodded. If he could not kill him now, at least he could look upon his face as he met his own end. 

“Well he is here,” Eleanor told him, voice sharp. She couldn’t have been much older than fourteen, but Thomas knew to fear her. She did not break eye contact with him as she called out. “Captain Flint! There is a man here to kill you.”

In the path that Eleanor Guthrie left in the crowd, the shadowy figure walked. His boots were loud on the stone floor, steps slow and deliberate and as Billy let him drop to the floor, Thomas hung his head, looking at the floor. Brown boots entered his line of sight, and a rich voice spoke down to him. “Your name?” 

Thomas did not answer, did not look up. The voice was familiar, but he could not place it. Like a voice from a dream, from another life. What did it matter? 

He heard the crack of bones as Captain Flint crouched in front of him and he felt a hard finger and thumb grip his jaw and force his face upwards. He could not look up yet. 

Captain Flint was silent. Thomas felt his eyes burn and he blinked, tears of anger, of heartache, of five years of hell, spilling down his cheeks. “You… you killed-” he began, his voice trembling. 

“Look at me.” Captain Flint’s voice was suddenly quiet, the grip from his jaw gone and a thud told him the pirate’s knees had hit the floor in front of him. 

At last, Thomas turned his face to him and he looked at him. His lips parted.

Flint was on the brink of weeping. His voice was now nothing more than a whisper. “Thomas?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A classic 'filler' chapter. Some mentions of homophobia / homophobic language. One sex mention.

“Get them in my office,” Eleanor told Gates sharply, unable to look away from where Captain Flint remained on his knees. There were murmurs going through the crowd around them and Eleanor could hear that not all were pleasant. She heard one man mutter the word ‘sodomite’ and threw him a glare fierce enough to silence him and he moved away with his companions back to his table. Most of the crowd remained.

 

“Get him off his knees, now,” she insisted, and from out of nowhere suddenly Mr Scott was there, helping the stranger to his feet while Gates pulled Flint less gently back up. Gates’ face was hard and they trooped Flint and the other man into Eleanor’s office.

“Guard the door,” Gates muttered to Billy, who nodded, and Scott shut the door from the outside to leave the office private for Gates, Eleanor, and the two men.

 

“Leave us,” Flint said once they were in the office. His voice was choked and his forehead was pressed against the man’s, fingers so carefully touching his face and hair and neck. The other man’s eyes were closed and he leaned against him. One socket was beginning to swell and his nose was still bleeding.

“Trust me, Cap’n, I wish we could,” Gates replied, somewhat grimly. “But as you just had a breakdown in front of half the island, we can’t quite do that yet. Would you care to explain precisely who this man is?”

Eleanor set her gun down on the table and crossed her arms over her chest. “I think it’s perfectly clear who this man is. Some… prior liason of Captain Flint’s-“

“Thank you, Miss Guthrie,” Gates cut in with a raised hand. She looked unsure, certainly naïve with regards to this. She liked to think she knew it all, and Hal had no time for this now. “Might I ask a favour of you, though?”

Eleanor raised an eyebrow, not liking well that Gates had interrupted her, but she nodded. “What do you need?”

“There’s a small house halfway between town and Lake Cunningham that a woman lives in alone. It’s set back from the road where a woman known as Mrs Barlow lives. Fetch her here, for the sake of both these two.”

“Is it necessary to drag more people into this at this stage?” she asked defiantly and Hal had to restrain his irritation.

“Yes, ma’am. It is.”

Eleanor took a long pause before finally nodding. She picked up her gun from where it sat on the desk and swept out of the office, leaving them just the three men. Hal turned to watch her go and to see a glimpse of the still full tavern. If anything, it looked as though more people had arrived, and it set him on edge slightly. Turning back to face Flint, he saw the two men wrapped in each other’s arms, kissing one another upon the mouth. He winced, incredibly uncomfortable, and cleared his throat. They broke apart and Flint blinked at Gates. “You’re still here.”

“Aye,” Gates replied, “I am. And I will be until I feel you are safe for me not to be.”

“Why wouldn’t I be safe?”

“Because, captain, as I already said, half the island just saw you collapse to your knees and embrace this man who they had just been beating the shit out of. Forgive me if I’m wrong, but that seems to put you in a compromising position.”

Flint took a step towards him, his face set as it so often was when irritated, defiant, self-righteous. “Forgive me too, but how does that put me in a compromising position exactly?” The other man was half a step behind him and still held his hand.

“Don’t make me say it,” Gates replied, looking uncomfortable.

“Say it.”

The quartermaster swallowed. “You’ve exposed yourself as a sodomite and that makes you look weak. It makes you harder to respect. From the men’s point of view, that makes you… you know. Well, it makes you look weak.”

 Flint wiped his damp eyes, damp cheeks, and looked back at the other man for a moment, who simply watched him in return. Flint turned back to Gates. “I am not weak. I am not ashamed. I will not be pushed back into the shadows and I will-!”

Gates raised his hands to stop him. “I know,” he told him earnestly. “I know. This changes nothing in the reality of you. But it changes the perception of the crew.”

“That doesn’t matter for now, we’re in recess for the season. By the time we cast off again they will be accustomed to… to…” Flint trailed off, and turned back to look at the man. “To however Thomas wishes to be a part of this.”

Hal was silent for a long moment and the lovers shared a look, entwined their fingers together, drew the other closer. They stole kisses, seemingly careless about Hal’s watchful gaze.

“He’s the man you told me about, isn’t he?” Gates eventually asked. “The one you lost?”

Flint closed his eyes and nodded his head. Tears had dampened his scarred cheeks again.

Gates sighed, and looked away. “If we take the back way out I can let you into my house without anyone seeing. I’ll bring Barlow there when she arrives, hopefully not long past the hour.”

Flint opened his eyes and spoke softly. “Miranda. She’s Thomas’ wife. Don’t tell her.”

Gates nodded as Thomas Hamilton’s face lit up. “She’s alive too?” he asked in a breathless voice, wonder in it. “My father… he told me Flint killed you both. He… he was killed by Flint.”

Flint cupped his face and wiped away his tears with calloused thumbs. “I only killed him. I didn’t kill us. I killed him for what he did to you, what he… everything he took from us, from me.”

Remembering that night and the men they lost for Flint’s revenge made Gates have to look away. He understood Flint’s fury, but the men that paid for it with their own lives did not deserve that. All men were equal, except for Flint, it seemed. Nothing mattered more than Flint’s own desires. Gates felt his jaw clench but he willed away those thoughts for now. “Enough talk. Let’s go.”

They made it through the back streets without being seen well enough and made it to Gates’ stone house close to the church. It had glass windows and a strong wooden door and was unsuspecting enough to avoid being the target of thieves and burglars. Inside there was comfortable furniture and healthy plants and tiled floors that kept the rooms cool and Gates showed them to the sitting room. He stood awkwardly in front of them, clasping and unclasping his hands as if to say something poignant, and eventually clapped his hands together once. “As I said, I’ll bring Mrs Barlow here when she arrives back with Eleanor. And just, uh, don’t fuck in my house. As a favour to me, I’d appreciate it. Right. If you need me, I’ll be back in the tavern. Let me know if you leave town and I’ll escort you with Billy. Which reminds me, he’ll still be guarding the office door so I’ll just… I’ll be off.”

Thomas reached out a hand to Gates and shook it, clasping his hand with both of his. “Thank you. For everything. This will not be forgotten.”

Gates stared at him as if he was from another bewildering world for a moment. “Right,” he eventually said slowly, and he looked at Flint. “I’m off. Don’t forget what I said else there’ll be Hell to pay.”

And with the slam of the front door, he was gone. For the first time, they were alone.

In a heartbeat they were in each other’s arms, lips pressed together in a fierce kiss, hands in hair and gripping shirts and holding the other tight. James felt his cheeks dampen and did not know if was his own tears or not but he didn’t care, all that mattered was that Thomas was here and he was real and he was well.

He parted his lips and tasted Thomas’ tongue on his own and copper filled his senses. He pulled back slowly to see Thomas’ nose was bleeding again. “Here,” he said, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket and he gently pressed it against Thomas’ upper lip. God, it was impossible to drag his gaze from him.

“You’re alive,” Thomas whispered. He was looking at James in as much wonder as James was him. “Are you well?”

James nodded. “I am. As well as I ever was without you. I’m a pirate but I am well. Are you well?”

“I cannot see out of my left eye and my nose may be broken but I am well also. I am well now.” He was beaming.

“Thomas, I need you to know that before anything else I have committed sins greater than you might be willing to forgive and that you may wish to walk away from me once you know them-“

Thomas shook his head and stroked James’ cheek. “I am not the idealist I once was. Since then, how I have lived! There is nothing you could have done that I cannot forgive.”

“Can you love me again?”

“I have never stopped.”  

**Author's Note:**

> I kind of have big ideas where this could go and already have dialogue lined up depending on whether this gets any kind of traction!


End file.
